


The Freaks Come Out At Night

by khorybannefin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Dom/sub, F/M, Knifeplay, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khorybannefin/pseuds/khorybannefin
Summary: A mission in a goth club forces Dean to dress the part. However when he sees the readers outfit the mission takes a very back seat.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Kudos: 34





	The Freaks Come Out At Night

The Freaks Come Out At Night

Pairing: Dean + reader

Reader Gender: Female

Writer Gender: Female

Author: khorybannefin

Warnings: smut (duh), knife play, blood, rough sex, unprotected sex, profanity, blasphemy

Summary: you and Dean are infiltrating a goth club after club goers keep showing up dead. Getting Dean to go along is bad enough, but once he sees you in full gear the mission takes a very back seat.

A/N: I heard a Taylor Swift song with a line “he can’t keep his wild eyes in the road” and immediately thought of Dean, Baby, and a whole lot of frustration. Blame the song.

Dean looks up as you drop a stack of black clothes on the table, along with heavy black boots and a small makeup kit. He starts looking through the things, confusion and disgust warring on his face. Everything was black. The black jeans he could do. Even the boots, though they had buckles for some damn reason. The shirt looked like a t-shirt until he held it up and saw that the sleeves were black netting. He looked disgusted. Then his eyes landed on the makeup. 

“Oh hell no.” He pushed it back towards you. “I am not wearing makeup for you or anyone else. Bad enough I have to wear the rest of this clown suit.”

You rolled your eyes and opened up the kit. A little base and powder to pale him down and cover the freckles, and the ever present black eyeliner. You just new that a pale Dean with those bedroom eyes of his enhanced would drop panties all over the club. In fact, the thought was working on you already. You really were enjoying dressing him up entirely too much. 

“Come on Dean. You have to blend in. No one in there is going to buy this pseudo redneck shit you usually wear. Can’t you just trust me?” You batted your lashes prettily at him and he snorted, giving you that half smile. 

“No makeup, no matter how cute you get.”

You pouted, but gave up. 

“Fine. Get dressed, and you’d better wear everything else!” You shook a threatening finger at him. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

You’d been doing the specialized costume thing forever. Years ago you thought you’d be an actress. Stage or screen, you didn’t care, just so you could dress up and not be you. The costumes gave you a buffer. You were self conscious and emotionally vulnerable by nature. But when you put this stuff on, it was like stepping into another person’s skin. You were locked away, protected, and another you took over. You lived for it. 

You’d met the Winchester boys a few years ago. They’d had an inside job they couldn’t pull alone. They needed cover, costumes, and a girl. Bobby sent them to you. You wondered sometimes if he’d done it on purpose, dropping that much raging male on your doorstep. You knew hunters were a lonely bunch, and tended to end up with other hunters. Nothing happened that time, no matter how much you might have wanted it to. Not the second or third time either. But they kept coming back, and this time Dean came alone. He didn’t tell you where Sam was. You decided it wasn’t important, especially after he told you the job. Just the chance to sink Dean into your world for a night was too good to pass up. And this flavor was notoriously good for romance. Let them deny it all they like, but stick a girl in a corset and big made up doe eyes and they fell every time. Oh you were going to make the most of it. 

Dean was in the Impala when you got in. The long black leather jacket hid everything except the knee high black boots, all leather straps and buckles, and the collar around your throat with the silver ring set in it. A silver chain disappeared into your collar. Dean looked you up and down. His eyes widened at the collar, and then he found your face. 

You’d worn the palest makeup you could find. It smoothed out your skin until you looked like a porcelain doll. The look was enhanced by the heavy eyeliner and thick eyelashes you’d applied. You pouted a wicked red and black cupids bow mouth at him. 

“Holy shit.”

“What?” You were all wide eyed innocence, though inside you were cheering. You’d gotten him! Oh poor Dean, you thought, it’s going to be such a long night for you. 

Dean didn’t answer your question, just drove towards the club. He didn’t look at you as he drove, though he kept shifting and pulling at the clothes he had on. He might not like them but he was unbelievably hot. He never wore black, and you couldn’t think why. His green eyes simply glowed in all that darkness. The shirt fit tight, with netting in all the right places, hugging and showing his body off. You knew the jeans were only just barely the right size. Imagining how his ass must look gave you a shiver and you straightened a little in your seat. 

When you got to the club Dean parked as out of the way as possible. He turned off the engine and turned towards you. He seemed to be struck again by your appearance and looked away. 

“So,” he asked. “What’s the plan?”

“You go in first. Find a place where you can observe. I’ll be in in a few minutes and do my best bait impression.”   
He looked skeptical, but got out and made his way across the lot. Damn, you’d been right about his ass. You actually cursed out loud at the rush from that. But the night wasn’t over. You promised yourself you’d have your hands on him tonight if it killed you. You waited a few minutes then got out of the car. You shucked out of the coat and left it in the seat. You looked down and grinned wickedly. Poor, poor, innocent Dean. 

Dark music beat through the speakers inside. Low lights and candles in alcoves were everywhere. The ceiling was low. The doorways were gothic arches, and the air smelled of heavy roses and clove cigarettes. It took less than ten seconds to spot Dean in one of the many dark corners, face lit from below by a lamp covered in black lace. His eyes found you and you grinned, utterly wicked, as his jaw dropped. 

He’d seen the boots in the car, but now he could see the shredded stockings going all the way up to very obvious garters. The shirt you were in was a tiny thing of scarlet, layered over with black lace. It covered, barely. The corset you had on was also red and black, making a dolls waist of you and leaving hips and cleavage to curve in the very definition of voluptuous sexiness. The little silver chain on your collar hung in a long, delicate loop until it attached to a bracelet on your wrist. It was obvious that the bracelet would snap open and transfer to someone else quite easily. 

Dean’s face and eyes darkened. The look he was giving you looked more than a little threatening. You could have laughed. Oh but then the song came on and you did laugh, head tilted back as the words started. It was utterly perfect. You locked eyes with the frustrated hunter and moved out onto the dance floor. 

One of the things you loved about goth clubs was that everyone had their own way of dancing, and no one cared. No one told you you were doing it wrong or teased you. They were all just as lost in the music as you were, moving as the mood twisted them. Your own hips slithered in smooth curves, and your arms were dancing above and around your body as though you were dancing with a snake. And to make it just that touch more ironic and sexy you were mouthing the words to the song, staring straight at Dean every time the chorus came around. 

“…your own, personal, Jesus. Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares…”

You swung yourself around in undulating circles, hips first, hands caressing, letting that silver slave chain sparkle in the black light. Every time you looked at Dean you thought the man was choking on his own tongue. He couldn’t sit still, and you knew why his clothes were bothering him. God, it was so delicious, watching the vaunted hunter shift and squirm with desire for you. It was more than a small rush. You knew the lace between your thighs wasn’t wet from sweat, and your nipples were straining against the corsets restraint. When the song was over you made your way to the bar. 

“Well, hello little goddess. What can I get you?”

The bartender was a bit too young for you, but you knew what the makeup did to your own visible years. If you looked over twenty you’d be shocked. The bouncer at the door had called bullshit when he checked your I.d. it was quite flattering. The kid behind the bar was eating you up while awaiting your answer. You leaned over the bar to be heard, as well as giving him a good view. After all, who doesn’t love to feel sexy?

“Bloody Mary, and send some whiskey to the creeper in the corner. He looks tense.” The bartender laughed, looking over at Dean. 

“Yeah, he does look a little uncomfortable. You got it sugar. On the house.”

You winked at him and blew a smug kiss towards Dean when the whiskey arrived at the table. He scowled at you and grabbed the arm of the waiter. He downed the shot and handed the glass back, clearly demanding more. You lowered your head, trying so hard not to laugh until you couldn’t breathe. Damn this was fun! You forgot you were on a mission until the lights went out. 

You hadn’t realized how much electric light had actually been in this little dungeon until all there was was flickering candles. The primal response of creatures in the dark sent a shot of panic through the room. The screaming started and people ran for doors that were inexplicably barred. People started panicking, crying. You and Dean found each other in the dark, both armed and half crouched. 

“Where is it?” You asked, getting close so he could hear you.

“I don’t see it yet.” Dean looked down at the small silver fun in your hands. “Where the hell were you hiding that.”

“I’ll show you later.” You smirked as he glared, then got back to business as the screaming hit a fever pitch near one of the exits, the sound of actual terror. 

The club devolved into screaming, flashes of gunfire, and running feet, especially after the fire started. But you got what you were after and the fire would take care of the cleanup. You both ran to the Impala in the chaos and left before anyone could identify you and point the cops in your direction. 

Dean tore down the road, both of you high on adrenaline and breathing hard. You kicked your head back and laughed, punching the ceiling. 

“Oh god, that was good! I haven’t had a hunt that good in forever! Thanks Winchester!” You leaned in and planted dark lips on his neck, leaving a mark. 

You sat back, smiling, and he cut an eye at you. Almost instantly the mood in the car changed. Dean was still breathing fast, but it wasn’t from the hunt. You turned, sitting with your back to the door and facing Dean as he drove. One knee kicked up and you tucked a boot under you. In the dark you knew he couldn’t see much, but it rutched your skirt up high enough to reveal black garters and a lot of white thigh. Dean grunted like he’d been gut punched. His hands tightened on the wheel and his jaw clenched. 

“Why, Dean,” you said. “Whatever is the matter?”

“You know damned well…” Oh his voice was dark. Hit you right in the good spot. You couldn’t resist pushing. You leaned over, like you had at the bar, giving him a long look down about an acre of cleavage. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Does my outfit bother you?” He looked over and groaned. 

“Jesus Christ Y/N! I’m trying to drive!” 

A hand left the wheel in a desperate and ultimately futile bid to adjust himself. The jeans left no room for that. You looked at the effect you were having on him and electricity arced from your chest to your sex. You met his eyes and licked your lips, slowly, letting him see all the dirty thoughts in your head. 

“Fuck!” He swore. “We get back to the house I’m going to hurt you.” You leaned in, breathing against his ear. 

“Promise?”

He growled and you laughed as his foot came down harder on the accelerator. You spent the rest of the drive playing with the hem of your skirt and running that silver chain through your hands. He spun gravel turning into your drive, and quick as you could you went for the door, intending to race him inside. You had underestimated his mood because he’d already hit the door locks. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you full onto his lap, his mouth savage on yours. One hand fists in your hair, hard and painful. You gasped, but not in a bad way. You’re drowning in his kiss. You didn’t feel the bracelet unsnap, or him winding the chain around his hand until he yanked you up tight, cutting off your air for a second. You gasped in shock this time and tried to pull away. He let you, but not far. 

“You started this,” he growled. He ground you down against a simply stunning hard on. “You are going to finish it, understand me.”

“Oh yes.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed at his rough jeans rubbing across the soaked lace of your panties. Dean jerked on the chain, getting your attention. 

“Yes, what?” His eyes gave you the clue.

“Yes, master.”

He physically pulled you into the house, making you move, pulling on the chain. You ran into the back of him as he went through the front door and stopped. He turned, slowly, and you saw him pulling zip ties out of his too tight jeans. You raise a brow. He points into the dining room. 

“Table. Now.”

You went into the room and over to the relatively small round table. You turned, your ass against the edge. Dean shoved you back, laying you out on the table. He circled to your head, pulling your arms above your head. He zipped your wrists together in quick, professional movements, and you felt them attached to one of the table legs. He circled around until he was looking up your body. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

You separate your knees, but it isn’t enough. He commands them open farther. You do, and hold them open while he zips each ankle to another table leg. You are stretched and bowed open. Your back is arched from the arm ties and your ass is still on the very edge of the table, hips trembling against the tension of your own legs and the insane arousal you’re trying to fight. 

“You have been a very very naughty girl.” He stepped up, sliding his hand up the front laces of the corset until he reaches the collar. He uses the soft leather to pull you up, leaning in to whisper, his voice strained and rough. 

“You planned this. Planned to torture me all fucking night. Is this going the way you planned?” You smiled up at him, even though you knew it would provoke him. 

“Not quite…”

He slapped a hand down on your thigh, leaving a stinging mark through the stockings. 

“What was that?” He asked, raising his hand again threateningly. 

“Not quite master.”

“Oh? And what exactly did you expect, my pretty little slave?”

He dipped his head and licked a slow line along the edge of the collar. Your voice was amused and challenging as you replied, nipping teeth at his ear lobe.

“I thought you’d break quicker.”

He stood back and slapped down at you again, harder than last time. He kept at it until the skin between your boots and the hem of your skirt was red hot and throbbing and you were crying out, writhing in your bonds desperately for the friction you needed.   
Dean was breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust and power. He’d never been this in control of another person, you could see it, and he was nearly drunk with the power of it. He looked at you, eyes never blinking, as he drew the demon blade out of its sheath. You moaned, the wetness between your thighs unbearable. He circled back around to your head. Leaning down he kissed you like he owned you, and you gave everything to him, everything he demanded with lips, tongue, and teeth. When he broke the kiss his voice was choked. 

“If I go too far, say strawberry.”

You nodded wordlessly and watched as he reached past you with that shining blade. The laces on your corset make the singing sounds of plucked guitar strings as the blade released the tension on each one. Green eyes flash as he comes around you again. You hear the scream of splitting fabric and feel the chill of metal against bare skin as he slices your skirt away in pieces. He sets the knife down and runs his hands up your body. Starting at your knees you feel him, hands hard and hot, as he pushes up you. His fingers play at the edges of the garters, and his thumbs graze your hips, under the edge of the black lace panties but so far from where you want him. From your hips he opens his hands wide and slides them up your torso, moving the remains of the corset aside until he fills his palms with your breasts. They’re hot and tight, the nipples painfully erect and a little raw from rubbing against the inside of the corset while you danced. He shows no mercy. He puts finger marks and teeth indentations in them until you’re screaming, and bucking underneath him. He covers your mouth and shushes you, running his fingers along hot bare skin. 

“Now now. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were enjoying this. Are you? Is this what you want?”

“Yes, master!” You were practically weeping in frustrated lust. “God, Dean, please!” He rubbed a thumb across your bottom lip. 

“So pretty when you beg for me. Keep it up and I might give you what you want.”

Again he savaged you with his mouth, hands running all over you. When his fingers stroked suddenly between your thighs you came off the table moaning and thrusting against his hands. 

“Mmm, sweet little slave, so wet for me already, and I’ve barely touched you. Do you like this?” His fingers curved over your sex, sliding slowly over the wet lace, teasing at the edges. It was driving you crazy. You hoped if you played along better he would give in and take you.

“Yes, master! I love it when you touch me!” You forced the words out in gasps between moans, trying desperately for more contact, but he kept his hand at just the right distance to deny you. He tickled and teased until you were nearly there and then pulled his hand away. The way your legs were tied there was nothing you could do to finish yourself. 

“Oh my god, Dean, please, for the love of Christ!”  
Dean slapped stinging fingers against the inside of your thigh. 

“Oh no you don’t. You gave me two hours of torture with this utterly sexy body of yours. Rubbed my face in it while you danced and flirted. I owe you some frustration, now don’t I pet?” You groaned, straining against the ties. You could feel them cutting into your skin and it was just another layer of pleasure into the mix he was giving you. God, who knew Dean Winchester could be dominant if you pushed him far enough? It was so good! Even as you begged for release you prayed he wouldn’t stop. You heard the sound of metal as Dean picked up the demon blade.   
Slowly he traced patterns on your skin with the tip of the blade, letting you feel the chill metal. He flirted with your throat, making you raise your chin, and the leather of the collar parted like butter. He slid the knife down, teasing over the peak of each breast, nipples stinging. He heard your sharp intake of breath and leaned down, laving his tongue across them to soothe the little scratches left behind. Down and down he went. The garters snapped, now loose against your skin, and you felt cool air against your heated sex as the lacy panties hit the floor in pieces. His head lowered and he blew a hot breath across that quivering wetness. You moaned, head tossing, hips lifting. 

“Now you get to watch, my pet.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. He began cutting at his own clothing. Bits and chunks of shirt hit the floor. He kicked out of the boots and started peeling strips off the jeans. He saw your eyes, eating him up as he revealed his tightly muscled chest, the rolling muscles in his thighs, the rippled plain of his stomach. He watched you, reveling in your hunger for him, as he cut away the last of the fabric, revealing his painfully erect member. He smiled as you gasped. 

“Oh, baby likes what she sees.”

“God yes. You’re incredible. Dean, please, I need you so bad.”

“So sweet. I want you to show me how badly you want it.” He walked up to your head, standing there with his erection pulsing in time with his heart. “Open your mouth, kitten.”

Eagerly you opened your mouth and moaned as he thrust himself between your lips. You sucked and licked in ecstasy as he worked his hips, fucking himself into your mouth. 

“God damn. I fucking love your hot little mouth. I love watching you take my cock. Oh fuck, baby.”

He groaned as he ripped himself away from you. He leaned against his palms on the table, panting in an effort to master himself. He was so hard, you knew he’d almost let himself cum in your mouth, and you regretted him pulling away.

“Too damn good. But I’m not done with you yet.”

“Please, Dean, please! I need you to fuck me so bad! I’ll do anything you want!”

“Too bad for you that what I want is to watch you squirm.”

Tears stung your eyes in the most exquisite and painful frustration you’d ever felt. You’d never, ever, needed another human being so badly, even in your kinky dreams. You were actually crying for an orgasm. It was embarrassing. But then you felt Dean’s hands sliding up your thighs and pushing you open. You felt his hot breath right before he laid a kiss on your inner thigh. He kissed, licked, and bit your legs, everywhere but where you wanted him. When he flicked his tongue across the very tip of your clit you arched off the table, screaming. 

You’d been wound too tight, too close to the edge, for too long. That little touch brought your orgasm in a wave, so strong it was painful. You thrashed, cutting into your skin with the zip ties. You came down, and even though you’d finally had the orgasm you were still wound up. He hadn’t given you any other simulation. It wasn’t complete. You got hit with the peak but couldn’t ride it out. You were still throbbing, aching, and desperate. 

Dean had watched you through the whole thing. When you calmed he spoke. 

“Naughty girl. Did I say you could cum?”

“I’m sorry master!” You whined. “I couldn’t help it!”

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?”  
He licked his way, slowly, from your orgasm wet center all the way up, rolling over your clit with perfect pressure. You bucked against him, still so sensitive and needy. 

“Yes! Yes! Please don’t stop!”

“Do you think you can cum for me again?”

“Yes! Oh fucking hell Dean please!”

You couldn’t see how radiant his smile was as he dove between your legs. The things he could do with his mouth and fingers should have been illegal. He played you out to that shining edge and held you there for an eternity. Then he tipped you over the edge with a simple brush of his tongue. You strained against your bonds, screaming and screaming his name until your voice broke. His fingers stroked you through wave after wave until you collapsed, covered in sweat and the force of your orgasm pooling beneath you. Dean stood, leaning over you, and thrust his fingers into your mouth. 

“That’s a good girl. Clean it all up. Think you can do one more?”

You knew he was talking about another orgasm. You were practically jelly from that one! You weren’t sure you could. Then you felt the tip of him bump against your clit. You cried out and your hips jerked uncontrollably, making him slide across you. 

“Oh god, Dean, you’re going to kill me.”

“Do you want me to stop? Just say the word and we can stop.” He stroked the hot tip of his cock through your drenched folds. You moaned despite yourself. 

“Don’t stop. I want you. I need you. Fuck me, Dean, please!”

“I think my good little pet deserves a reward.”

He pulled away and circled the table, cutting all the ties off. After being stretched like that for so long you curled into yourself. Your wrists were bloody. Dean took one of your hands and licked delicately at the wound. It sent a shiver through you even as the wound burned at the touch. 

“Shall we bandage you?”

“Later,” you growled. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, finally able to touch him. You kissed him with all the hunger you’d built up, hands roaming and scratching. When you reached between his legs and gripped him hard he groaned against your shoulder and shoved his hips into your hands. 

“Y/N, baby, I need to be inside you.”

“Then take me, Dean, you complete asshole.”

He didn’t even react to the disparagement. He was as maddened with lust as you were and you’d already cum twice. He took your ass in both hands, lifted you up, and impaled you in one clean stroke. You groaned and he cursed, holding himself very still as he was buried full inside you.

“Holy fuck, baby. How’re you so fucking tight?”

You couldn’t respond. You curved your hips, loving the feel of him inside but needing him to move. He needed no encouragement. He tried to be slow at first, but neither of you wanted that. It wasn’t long before he was pounding against your hips, rocking the table under you as you clung to his shoulders, crying out every time he hit the end of you. 

“God, baby, so hot. So wet for me. I’m going to cum.”  
His hips started to lose rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him and lifted yourself up and into his strokes, helping him hit as hard and deep as he could go. 

“Do it! Dean, oh god, please. Cum inside me. I’m going….to….ahhh!”

Your arms and legs tightened and he lugged you full off the table, using your own weight and gravity to bury himself. He was cursing and groaning your name into your shoulder as he pulsed inside, spilling himself even as you spasmed around him, screaming and crying your orgasm at the ceiling. When Dean’s legs gave out he managed to drop heavily into a chair with you instead of hitting the floor. You both made pained sounds as you bounced on his lap. 

“Dean Winchester,” you panted. “This better not be a one night stand or so help me god I will curse you into next year.” Dean laughed, just as breathless and rich satisfaction in his voice.

“Oh baby. There’s no way I’m only doing that once.”


End file.
